


Plague Days

by CrimsonFirebreeze



Series: The Arcana [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Heartbreak, Julian Devorak's Route Spoilers, POV Alternating, Plague, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 23:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonFirebreeze/pseuds/CrimsonFirebreeze
Summary: Pre-Arcana main storyline/Red PlagueAlyce is apprenticing under Dr. Julian Devorak, working tirelessly by his side to save Vesuvia from the Red Plague, doing her best not to let her feelings get in the way of the work they must do, even when she's out of time.~Julian Devorak is in love but he can't let himself get distracted from finding the cure. With the ailing Count willing to do whatever it takes to keep him on task, Julian must stay focused, even if it means paying a terrible price.





	Plague Days

**Author's Note:**

> I rewrote this twice and did a LOT of crying, plotted, slept, read some route spoilers, ripped my hair out, rewrote, plotted with my bestie (Fabulosaurus, hi Alex bb ilyu and I'm NOT SORRY)), rewrote some more, replayed a couple chapters of Julian's route and I am finally satisfied. Though I have created a few continuity errors for my other pieces now that are going to BUG me... BUT I accept that that part of developing a coherent backstory is making a mess of it first. Thank you for riding out this process with me.
> 
> Not to sound like a jerk or anything, but I hope you all cry. Cuz that's my goal here. 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! AmpersandXVII

Listening to [I of the Storm - Of Monsters & Men](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlCkafSYNJI)

Julian sits down beside me on the edge of the pier, handing me some food he procured from a vendor down the road. The sound of the water lapping against the pylons and ocean birds are the only sounds for a long time while we eat. I pick at my food, not really having much of an appetite lately. Palace guards pass by every now and then, doing their normal rounds. I chance a look up at him when I dare. Even when away from his clinic, he has the same look of deep thought on his face. He never stops thinking about the Plague. He catches me looking and I quickly avert my eyes, willing myself not to blush. His gray eyes linger though, regarding me pensively. I feel my ears burn under his scrutiny.

"I’m not angry with you," he says, finally breaking the silence. "Things break. When all is said and done, you're doing very well."

"They make my skin crawl," I reply, shuddering. I dropped the leeches, shattering the glass bottle he keeps them in. “Give me gore and entrails and I’m fine. Leeches? Nope. I’m a terrible apprentice.”

"Nonsense! You're assistance is an invaluable asset to me, Alyce. You’ve pushed through far more than most people would without flinching. I think you’re allowed to be squeamish about this one thing.”

His puts his hand on my leg and squeezes gently, reassuringly. I stare down at his hand, with those impossibly long fingers until he pulls it away. I swallow hard, repressing the shiver that wants to run the length of my spine. I cannot afford to fall in love right now. Everything is too uncertain. Doctors like us are starting to contract the Plague.

"How's the Count," I ask tentatively. He’s been on edge ever since he was summoned to the palace several days ago.

"Worse," he sighs. I watch his whole body tense. "He wants me to come work at the palace. But… "

"It's not all on you, Julian."

"It is though. For him it absolutely is entirely on me. He thinks I owe him something for amputating his arm."

I put my hand on his shoulder and he sighs again, rubbing his face. He's tired, hardly sleeping anymore. I want to hold him, comfort him, give him some kind of relief. It hurts to watch him.

"How can I help you," I ask.

He stops rubbing his eyes and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in against his side. He rests his cheek against the top of my head. It's entirely platonic but as I breathe in the scent of him, I can’t help but wish it was more.

"You already help more than you realize," he says softly. "I’m sorry I’ve been so impossible lately. This… I needed this. Thank you."

I nod, which feels more like a nuzzle, pressed against him like this. It had been a fight to get him out of his office. He had barely emerged in days, having taken to napping at his desk. I somehow managed to convince him that fresh air would help him think clearer. For once he listened instead of pushing me away.

"How are you holding up?"

_ **Asra.** _

I suck in a breath, a little startled he was even aware. He's been so absorbed in everything else, I didn’t think he noticed that something was wrong in my life when I started working with him.

"Better than I was," I admit. "It is what it is. Just not meant to be, I guess."

I hear his tongue wet his lip before he bites it. I've seen him chew on it enough to know the sound of it next to my ear. I can only wonder what's going on in his head.

"I wouldn't have let you go," he says abruptly. I can’t help but pull back enough to look at him. His expression is unreadable but there's _something_ in his storm-colored eyes that sends the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. "You're beautiful, you're intelligent, supportive, and I imagine you're good at… ah ahem, domestic things. He was crazy to leave. If it was me, I wouldn't have, no matter the cost."

I know he's trying to make me feel better but I want to shake him and scream, _then let it be you_! His eyes lower to my mouth. His fingers, which had been resting on my shoulder trace the line of my jaw from my ear to my chin. They're cool against my skin but not uncomfortably so. He leans in, his breath warm against my cheeks as his lips brush feather light against mine. He hesitates, eyes meeting mine a moment, searching.

"Doctor Devorak." Julian let's out a low hiss of a sigh, pulling away, and turns his attention to the guard. "The Count summons you."

He stands, stretching his lithe frame and says, "I'm not sure how long this is going to take. When you're done here, go back to the clinic and finish making the notations from this morning’s experiment.”

He tosses his keys to me with a wink and follows the guard. I'm left alone with the sound of the sea and my swirling thoughts. I splash water on my face and count my breaths, trying to process what just happened. I gather my things and head back to our work.

~

He's in a sour mood when he returns from the palace, muttering in a language I don’t understand. He knows several and it sounds like he's utilizing every single one. He barely acknowledges me as he sets back to his work and it's such a flip from his demeanor at the beach that I'm honestly startled. He holds out a hand expectantly, and I simply hand over my notes taken in his absence. The rest of the day passes with him so absorbed in the work that I can't get his attention. I'm used to it but I could do without his irritability. We work long into the night like this and at some point I have to get away from him.

The city is quiet when I step out of the clinic. I head to the nearest tavern, letting the night air clear my head and calm my frayed nerves. I can’t help but wonder what the Count said to him that put him in such a foul mood.

“Alyce,’ calls Dorian, the owner of the tavern who knows Julian and me very well. Business has been slow since the outbreak, but we’re faithful patrons. “Here alone? Is the good doctor away at the palace again?”

“No, just buried in his books,” I say, clearing my throat and sitting at the bar.

“Have you been sleeping enough, girl? You tell him that he’s got to stop running you ragged. One thing at a time!” Dorian winks and I catch is meaning, my face growing hot. “Shellina said she saw you two today having a picnic. It’s about time.”

“It’s not like that,” I mutter. But I want it to be.

“Oho? So the kiss was just an embellishment then?”

“I… sort of? I don’t know.” I bury my face in my folded arms, flustered.

“Now now, Poppit,” Dorian coos, laying a large calloused hand on my shoulder. “I’m just having a bit of fun with ya. No need to get your knickers in a knot about it.”

“That’s the thing though,” I groan. “He was about to and the stupid guards came and took him to the palace. He’s been in a terrible mood since then. I’m starting to think I imagined the whole thing.”

Dorian looks sympathetic when I look up at him. His gruff voice is gentle when he speaks, “Let it lie for now, lovey. The way I hear it, that Count is a right nasty fella but I seen the way the Doc looks at you. He’ll come ‘round again when he cools off.”

He moves away to serve another patron and I sigh, clearing my throat again. I wish Alexiel was here. She’s doing her own good work at the Lazaret, giing what she calls ‘ A Good Death’ to those that are too far gone. I miss my best friend and worry for her safety constantly, but we all have our jobs to do. I jump slightly when Dorian sets a bundle on the counter in front of me, pulled out of my thoughts.

“Take this and get some food into him,” he said gently. He pulls out a bottle of shimmering gold liquid from behind the bar. “And then get him to relax with this.”

“You’ve been holding out on us, my friend,” I say, examining the bottle of Golden Goose.

“The Doc likes his Bitters. I keep these for special occasions. I figure this is a good enough one.”

“How much,” I ask pulling out my coin pouch. His rough hand closes over mine, swallowing it entirely.

“On the house,” he says, smiling warmly.

I thank him profusely as he shoos me off back to Julian. I feel a little better as I walk back to the clinic, despite the tickle in my throat that persists regardless of how many times I clear it. Dorian is always good for a pep talk.

Julian is scribbling furiously when I return. I wordlessly set down the food near him, though I know he probably won't eat unless I force him to stop working again. I'm not particularly hungry. I set the Golden Goose on his desk next to his inkwell. When he doesn’t notice, I rub his back to get his attention, gently working a knuckle into a prominent knot just below his shoulder blade. He stops writing, his head drooping and he lets out a low moan, leaning into my hand.

"Your back is a mess," I say, finding another knot and massaging it. He moans again, dropping his quill and I blush at the obscenity of it. "Take a break. Stretch."

"I can't," he answers.

"Yes, you can. Have a drink with me. Just a few minutes. Please?"

“Golden Goose? What’s the occasion?”

I shrug. “You? Us? Life? Do we need one?”

“I suppose not. Where’d you find this?”

“Dorian had it stashed away. Thought his favorite doctor would like it. There’s food too.”

“Fine. One drink,” he says grudgingly and I pour.

It doesn’t take long for us to finish the bottle together and I'm feeling warm and pleasantly dizzy. My head swims when I move too suddenly. Julian looks irresistible to me, sitting back in his chair with his waistcoat unbuttoned. The neckline of the white shirt beneath is cut deep, revealing more of his chest than is modest. I can see the hair there is only slightly darker than his Auburn locks. His long legs are splayed out. With my inhibitions greatly reduced thanks to alcohol, I want to pick up what was left at the beach. I want to know.

I stand from where I've perched myself and move over to him, carefully stepping over his legs until I'm standing between his knees. I thread my fingers gently through his hair, tugging lightly on the shorter hair near the nape of his neck so that he looks up at me.

"Feel better," I ask innocently.

"A little," he says with a tone that's still colored with the stress of whatever Count Lucio said to him.

"You're overworking yourself," I remind him. I release his hair and my hand slips under the collar of his shirt. I drag my nails lightly over his cool skin. He makes a sound in his throat and leans forward a little bit, resting his forehead against my side. He wiggles and angles himself and I scratch whatever itch he's got until he sighs in relief. His arm wraps around my waist, his hand settling on my hip.

"You're too patient with me," he mumbles. "You don’t need to take care of me. I can--"

I plop down into his lap, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. His face flushes, eyes wide in surprise. It strikes me that now is a fantastic time to tell him how I feel. I remove my finger from his lips and lean in more, letting my body press against his.

"Less lamenting, more relaxing," I purr.

He seems at a loss for words, which is something I've never seen from him before. He doesn’t take his eyes from mine as he reaches for his cup…. And knocks it over.

We're both on our feet, scrambling to save our research notes, mopping up the spilled drink. He snatches the rag from me and pushes me out of the way a little too roughly for my tastes, swearing.

"Hey! What the--"

"Just go," he snarls. "You've done enough!"

I'm taken aback by the viciousness in his tone. It's not like him. "Ilya, I--"

"Go home, Alyce," he snaps, rounding on me. He motions to the door. "Leave!"

He stares me down for a long, uncomfortable moment. I've never seen him so upset. It’s a complete reversal from his reaction to the dropped leeches earlier. I open my mouth to protest but he turns away with a hiss, running his fingers through his hair. This conversation is over. I grab my coat and my bag and I leave him there to fume alone.

My walk home is lonely and there's an ache in my chest. It's hard not to feel rejected. I know it's not my fault he and I know he's only reacting this way because of stress. Whatever Lucio said to him has him wound too tight. He was bound to snap. He didn’t mean it. He'll apologize for it in the morning. He cares, I know he does. I didn’t imagine him nearly kissing me.

I cough, groaning slightly at the pressure in my chest as I arrive home. I'll wait. When the plague passes, I'll tell him how I feel. Maybe then we will have a chance because right now, there is just no time.

It hurts to cough. I make myself some tea, hoping to soothe my throat and chest. I must be having a panic attack, that's all. I'll be fine after tea and some sleep.

Something dark and awful whispers in the back of my mind, _**You know better than that...**_

~~~~~

Julian regretted sending Alyce away the moment she left. He grips the edges of his desk and fights back the urge to break something. She was only trying to help, he knows, trying to take care of him. Trying even, he suspects, to love him. God, he wants to love her too. He wants to wrap her up in his arms and shout it from the tallest mountains that he loves her. He wants to go after her, stop her, kiss her and tell her what an idiot he is for sending her away. He wants to forget all of this and just be with her.

But that's reckless and irresponsible. His momentary lapse in judgement at the pier put her danger. Lucio has eyes and ears everywhere. Lucio's message was a loud and clear threat against Alyce and Julian can not risk her life for his heart. First he has to find a cure, then he can devote himself to her without Lucio's desperate threats hanging over them.

He sits down, straightening his desk. He'll apologize to her tomorrow and he will keep her at arms length from here on out. He would rather run the risk of her finding someone else,or even hating him, than to let the Count think he is distracted from his work and blame her. He's close to finding a cure, he knows it.

He doesn't know how much time has passed when he hears the clinic door open. He's exhausted, his eyes feel dry and his hand is cramping from writing. He's dozed off a few times, waking up when his head hits the desk, sometimes after falling out of his chair.

"I don’t mean to interrupt, Doc,” It’s Dorian.

“You’re not. Please, come in,” Julian says, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s just that the little miss hasn’t been around. I heard a rumor some days ago and I came to see for myself if it was true.”

“Rumor? What rumor?”

“Well, that she succumbed. Is it true? I haven’t seen her in days…”

“_What?!_” An icy chill grips Julian’s chest, squeezing the air out of him.

Days? It's been _days_? How many days? How long has he been lost in his work? He turns and that's when he sees the food she had brought from Dorian’s tavern, still sitting where she had left it, withered and stale. He looks to Dorian, a horrible, nauseous feeling taking hold of him. He's up and out of his chair, his body protesting after too many hours hunched over the desk. His legs wobble under him as he barely remembers to grab his gloves and beaked mask but he pushes through it, determined, and sliding past the startled Tavern-keeper.

He runs, his legs burn as he does and his lungs feel like they will burst, all through the streets of Vesuvia. He weaves through crowds of people, past other doctors who shout at him. When he reaches the little magic shop she calls home, his stomach drops as he sees the red X painted across the door. He reaches out, gloved hand touching the painted wood.

"Alyce…"

"Ilya!" He looks around for the familiar voice of his mentor, Nazali. He spots them just as they surge forward and rip the beaked mask from his other hand and shove it against his chest. "Are you insane? Put your mask on!"

"The woman who lived here, where is she," he asks desperately, already knowing the answer before Nazali says it.

"They took her to the Lazaret two days ago. Why?"

" Oh… Oh God... She's my apprentice!"

He pulls his mask on and takes off at a sprint again, Nazali shouting his name fades into the din of the crowd. Parts of the city are in chaos but he threads his way to the docks, to the ferry that takes the dying and doctors to the island.

"I need to cross," he says, pleading with the guard.

"State your business."

"I am Count Lucio's personal physician, Julian Devorak."

"Doctor Number 069 may cross,” says Quaestor Valdemar and Julian is too disturbed by their presence to wonder where they came from. “He will be assisting me today.”

The guard steps out of the way and Julian follows Valdemar onto the ferry. He can feel his heart pounding as they start across the channel to the island looming in the distance. He wrings his hands, leather gloves creaking in protest. He never should have let her go. He never should have sent her away. He should have kept her with him. Then at least… maybe he could have saved her. Maybe he still can.

“Thank you,” he says grudgingly.

“Oh I’m not doing this for you,” says Valdemar. “Far far from it. You really will be assisting me. You just don’t know it.”

Julian steps away from Valdemar, shuddering at the sadistic glee that radiates from them. He turns his thoughts to the pier, when Alyce was in his arms. He should have kissed her. He should have made Lucio wait. Did she know what he meant to do? Did she know that he wanted her with every fiber of his being in that moment? He should have told her. He should have kissed her instead of getting upset about the spilled drink. Damn the notes. Damn the research. All of that mattered so much less than her. Why did he get so angry? Why did he send her away? _**Why did you send her to her death?**_

Julian hardly waits for the ferry to finish docking before he’s sprinting onto the gray shore. He looks frantically around. With every frantic step, he feels the dread creep higher and higher in him until he thinks he might scream. There’s fine ash everywhere and over the scented herbs stuffed into the beak of his mask, he catches the smell of burning flesh. Another doctor in a plague mask walks past. He recognizes the figure and catches her arm.

“Julian,” comes the muffled question. He can just make out Alexiel’s surprised eyes through the red lenses of her mask. “What are you doing here?”

“Alyce! I’m looking for Alyce. Nazali said she was brought here.”

“Ilya…” The way she touches his arm scares him beyond reason. Her hand is shaking. It’s then that he notices flecks across her mask. “I thought you knew…”

“No, no, no, no,” he begs, seizing her by the shoulders. “It’s a lie. Tell me it’s a lie!”

“I _can’t_,” she says, weakly. “Ilya, I can’t.”

“Where is she?!”

“You’re hurting me!”

He releases her, stepping back. He didn’t realize he was squeezing her so hard, that he shook her. What right has he to be rough with her? If there is one person in all this wide world who feels this horror more deeply than him, it’s Alexiel. He feels shame and hangs his head, waiting, shaking.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says and he can hear the loss in her voice, muffled as it is. “Come. We’ll go together.”

She takes his hand and leads him towards the Crematorium. He stumbles, his knees giving out as he pieces it together. Alexiel steadies him, leading him on towards the line of corpses, waiting for incineration. Alyce the last in the line, the blood on her mouth still glistening and wet. There’s still just a bit of pink in her cheeks. She’s newly deceased. Minutes, an hour maybe. His ragged cry sounds far away to him and he falls to his knees beside her, ash wafting up into the breeze as it’s disturbed. He pushes his mask from his face, letting it fall to the ground. How? How did this happen? How did he let this happen? She was fine, she had no symptoms.

“Don’t do that,” Alexiel warns.

He’s not listening. He doesn’t care. He pulls Alyce to him, hugging her body close to his. She’s still warm and that pushes him over the edge. His sobs tear through him as he hugs her to him, rocking.

“No, I’m sorry,” he cries, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! I'm so sorry! Alyce! My Alyce! Oh, God, please, not her!”

It’s all he can do to stay upright, keep his grip on her. He smoothes her hair back from her face, rocking her. He can’t stop rocking. He can't stop crying. He can't stop hurting. He never should have let her go. He never should have been so cross with her. He can never take it back. She died and his last words to her were in anger. He can’t ever undo it. He can’t ever apologize to her. He can’t tell her how much she means to him. He let her go. **_You let her die._**

“Please please… come back to me. Please, don’t leave me…”

He curls over her, crushed underneath the weight of his heartache. It’s agony. He’s imploding. He’s dying. She can’t be gone. He couldn’t have lost that many days. He will never see her again. He will never get to make it right.

“Alyce…!”

She's gone. Everything he loved about her. Everything he looked forward to. _**Gone.**_

"Please…"

Her laugh. Her smile. Her warmth. The way she said his name.

"Please wake up."

_ **Gone. She's gone. You let her go. You let her die.** _

"I need you."

Her corpse is still and silent. He can't stop the wailing that comes out of him, even as he goes hoarse. The sobs wrack his body so hard that his very bones ache with the shattering of his heart. He doesn't care if he's making a scene. He doesn't care if he shouldn't act this way. She's gone and he didn't save her. She's gone and he didn't go after her. She's gone and he didn't tell her he loved her.

“The Count will be so disappointed that his leverage went and died before she could be used further,” Valdemar hisses, almost gleeful.

“Tell Lucio he can take his offer and shove it up his ass,” Julian growls through his sniffling, hot rage coiling like a viper in him.

“Now, now Doctor, that’s treasonous,” Valdemar tsks. “It’s your fault for getting distracted. I wonder, was she so attached to you? I should like to dissect her brain and compare it to yours when you inevitably succumb to the same end.”

“The hell you will,” Julian snarls, shielding the corpse in his arms. “I’ll throw her on the pyre myself before I let you touch her.”

Valdemar tilts their head to the side, inquisitively. “Will you? No, I don’t think you will. Your ridiculous attachment simply won't allow it. Your threat is feeble and insipid. Vapid, like you. Now, put the cadaver down and get back to your work, Doctor. The Count is waiting.”

Julian glares up at Valdemar, rage boiling over past his tipping point. Defiant, he stands, glaring into those horrid red eyes as he lifts Alyce with him. Alexiel steps between them and he can feel the anger radiating off of her.

“You will _NOT_ be taking this cadaver for your sick experiments,” she commands. “I don’t care who you think you are or what titles you hold. It’s _NOT_ happening.”

“Are you sure? Are very very very _very_ sure,” Valdemar hisses, nearly pressing their face to Alexiel’s mask.

“You will not have her,” she growls, standing her ground.

Valdemar narrows their eyes a moment then grins, shrugging. “Have it your way. I’m sure there’s another doctor lying around here to dissect.”

Julian’s rage simmers and gives way to grief again as Valdemar leaves them. Alexiel turns to face him and the tears start anew as he looks down at Alyce in his arms. He hears the rustle of Alexiel’s coat as she moves to him and it takes all he has not to jerk away protectively when she folds Alyce’s dangling arm over her chest. He observes the tenderness as Alexiel lays a gloved hand over Alyce’s forehead.

“It’s time, Ilya,” she says, barely audible.

He crumbles again, his whole body shuddering under a new wave of sobs, his grip on her tightening. He somehow moves towards the fires. The other doctors there, in charge of putting the bodies into the inferno stare curiously at him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to hand her over. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. He looks down at her again, trying to picture her in the moment he was about to kiss her. He’s met instead with the hurt look she gave him before he turned away from her. He squeezes his eyes shut, craning his neck to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sorry I never told you,” he whispers against her cooling skin. He lets the other doctors take her from him then. He doesn’t want to watch as they throw her onto the burning pit of corpses, but he must to know she’s out of Valdemar’s reach forever. Fresh tears well up and spill over as he watches her burn. Alexiel stands beside him, his forgotten mask in her hand, her fingers lacing through his.

“Goodbye, my love,” he says, the numbness of shock beginning to spread through him.

“She loved you,” Alexiel says quietly. He looks down at her. “She wanted to tell you.”

“I was cross with her,” he says feebly. He bends to let Alexiel slip his mask over his face.

“I know,” she says gently. “She knew you didn’t mean it. Ilya… she wanted you to know she was sorry.”

“She had nothing to be sorry for.”

“She was sorry that you didn’t have more time.”

He lets out a shakey breath, looking away. It registers suddenly that Alexiel was with Alyce in her final moments. He pulls her tightly into a hug, holding her like if he doesn't keep squeezing her, the whole world will break apart. **_She watched her best friend die._**

Alexiel squeezes back for several long moments. “Come on, let’s get you back across the channel. Valdemar can’t touch her now.”

He nods weakly, letting Alexiel lead him away. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, partially to steady himself, partially because he’s semi-aware that despite her brave front, she’s mourning too and needs someone to lean on as much as he does. He decides he will take a few days to mourn and to try and comfort Alexiel as best he can. Then he’ll double down, work harder, find the cure. Not for himself, or Lucio, or even Vesuvia.

** _For Her._ **


End file.
